His Demise

[tectak]

The ink bleeding out of a pen
The seal bladders!
The violent rocking
Forward and backward, so hard
That the wood hits the glass
And the chipping paint sprinkles
The floor like his hair
Sprinkles the fabric
The black fabric in his daughter's name

A midnight blue circle grows on
The acid wash of his denim pants
That matches the ink bleeding out
Of his pen
His favorite blue pen, so fascinating
That his fixation prevents him
Prevents him from realizing
His bladder is no seal's bladder
And his daughter is responsible
For the mess

*I am new to poetry. This is one of my first poems. I appreciate honest opinions and any critique people are willing to give me. Thanks for reading.

Hi,
I tentatively think we are all missing the point of this one. It really is so obscure that I have already forgiven myself for not getting your point. If anything can be said of it that is certain it is this...I have no idea what it is about.
You have used an emotive gathering of words to create a suspiciously profound "poem", and I apologise for the quotes, but you have not made one clarifying metaphor, nor have you consistently taken on board the optional but useful requirement of meter, rhythm or rhyme. You capitalise every line, omit punctuation, and yet presumably wish to benefit from your peer's opinion of whatever poetic endeavour you may feel you have incorporated...this is a difficult task.
I admire the bravado with which you embark on this but MUST point out the importance of clear information inherent in any written work...without giving such information you will find yourself defending the piece by lengthy explanations, post posting, of what it is all about...when, in fact, that is what the poem should do in the first place. Why spoil a concept close to your metaphorical heart by distancing your readers until the mist of misinterpretation creeps across your vista. I am lost. Are you?
Best,
tectak